Paranoia
by FishyFloat
Summary: Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you…


**AN:** Here's a little something inspired by a customer at my job yesterday. Honestly, I never want to hear about the Illuminati, new world government, how our money is being tracked, or why people are being secretly arrested in castles in Europe again. I'm really not sure if this will grow into anything more or not. For now, it's just a glimpse into some of the hassles the ducks occasionally have to deal with. Hope you like it!

* * *

"Nuh-uh, man," Nosedive shook his head vigorously. "Sunshadow is way cooler than Barn Owl. Controlling solar flares outdoes seeing at night any time."

"But Barn Owl can hear at supersonic levels," Thrash argued back. "That's freaky cool. He could eavesdrop on Superman."

"It like, totally doesn't matter," Mookie snorted, pushing past them with an armful of Caped Crusader comics to re-stock the shelf. "Neither one sells. They'll both be canceled by the end of the year."

Chiming from the bell above the door signaled the arrival of another customer. Shaking with either fear or nervous energy, the disheveled, middle-aged man quickly dodged behind the first rack of comics he came to and crouched down. A carpenter ant couldn't have done a better job pressing itself into the wooden display in an attempt to vanish.

Quirking an eyebrow at the two employees, Nosedive leaned to the side a little in an attempt to get a better view.

The harried man softly muttered numbers to himself while tapping each finger to his thumb one at a time. He wasn't exactly fat and he wasn't going to win a beanpole contest either. Clothing more suited to a vaudeville hobo act struggled to cover a slightly pudgy belly and pooled around his ankles. Stubble spread across his sallow cheeks and chin in uneven patches; he probably couldn't grow a full beard if he refused to shave for the next five years. For that matter, his flyaway hair wasn't doing too good a job covering his head either; it slunk away from his brow like the tide retreating from the shore.

"Puuuhh," Thrash sighed. "Looks like we got another white jacket." Something about Captain Comics attracted the strange, conspiratorial, and freaky. Sure, there were the overly analytical, nerdy types who took Spiderman way too seriously. There were the basement dwelling vampires that only ventured out to the comic haven after dark. And, of course, there were the aliens that occasionally came from across the street to hang out somewhere where they weren't the strangest thing around. But, every once in a while, a customer who had escaped from an episode of the X-Files would stop by on his way to the Twilight Zone. Thrash and Mookie called them white jackets in reference to what they assumed was their usual attire before they escaped.

"Like, leave him alone," Mookie rolled her eyes. "Maybe he'll leave after counting to a thousand in French." Thankfully, her mohawk and nose piercing, combined with the punk clothing and attitude, made her very unapproachable to the Matrix-believers. She walked right past him and began straightening the shelf directly opposite him. As much as she tried to accept everyone, there were certain types she kept an eye on. One too many lectures about the Illuminati and black helicopters had worn her out on listening to their ramblings.

"Anyway," Nosedive tried to get the conversation going again. "I heard about this comic museum in Frisco. They supposedly have a first issue of Super Friends on display for the rest of the summer. I was thinking about heading up in a few days to check it out. Think you guys can get some time off?"

"I dunno, Dive," Thrash shrugged. "Ever since Lindsey quit, it's been mondo-difficult getting anyone to fill in. We're still trying to find someone to take the night shifts."

"If I can get someone to cover my shift, I'll totally come," Mookie promised, her back still turned to them.

The frantic human finally took a deep breath, peeked around the corner of his protective cabinet to see if it was safe, and stood. Eye contact was something beyond his capabilities, but he shuffled to the counter and selected a KitKat bar. Furtive glances were thrown at the alien standing only a few feet away.

"This it for you, man?" Thrash asked, quickly typing the total into his register.

Two more KitKat's joined the first. A shaky nod and unintelligible mumble signified yes. Glancing towards the giant duck once more, the slightly disturbed man actually lifted his gaze above the beak and into cerulean eyes for a full two seconds before once more resting on the scratched glass and metal counter before him.

Nosedive half waved, trying to be friendly.

"That's two seventy-five."

Blunted fingers pulled a massive pile of change from the depths of his back pocket. Slowly, steadily, he sorted it all into neat piles before counting out the proper amount and pushing it towards the clerk. After scooping the remaining change back into his pocket, he snatched the candy and headed towards the door. There was a half hesitation in his step as he passed Nosedive.

"I know what they did to you," he whispered. Breaking into a run, he bolted for the door, glanced both ways quickly, and vanished into the Anaheim afternoon. His jerky, nervous movements caused a bundle of papers to fall from his back pocket on his way out.

"What'd he say?" Thrash asked.

"He knows what they did to me," Nosedive scoffed, moving towards the door. "Who did what?" Snorting his derision at the idea, he picked up the fallen papers. "I'm going to go give these back to him. Try to get off sometime next week."

"Will do!" Mookie called, waving farewell to her feathered friend.

"Hey, make sure he gets his hug-me back on while you're at it!" Thrash joked.

Laughing, Nosedive returned to the heat of a sunny, California afternoon and glanced towards the right. He could have sworn that crazy guy went off towards the food court. A quick glimpse of wiry, brown hair that refused to stay in any style other than recently-electrocuted told Nosedive he was going the right way. For such an out of shape, paranoid human, he sure could move fast. Breaking into a jog, Nosedive tried catching up to him.

"Yo, Dude!" Waving the papers in the air, he tried to get his attention. "You dropped these."

The neurotic man quickly turned around, eyes widening at the attention Nosedive was drawing to himself. Putting a finger to his lips to signal silence, he darted into the small gap between two of the stores.

Frowning at his odd behavior, Nosedive easily jogged to the space and caught up to the strange man. He wasn't worried about going into a confined area with such a weird person; if he could survive the occupation of his planet, travel to another dimension, and regular battles with a megalomaniac lizard bent on world domination, there wasn't much a paranoid human could do to him. Confidently entering the narrow alleyway, he stopped a few feet in.

"Thought you might miss these," Nosedive held out the sloppily folded bundle of papers.

"They didn't follow you, did they?" Scrutinizing the scenery behind the hockey player, he tried to discern if they were being watched or not.

"I don't think so..." Confused, he glanced over his shoulder. "Who?"

"Them. The scientists. The ones who changed you. Are they still tracking you?" Words poured from his lips with the speed of a methamphetamine tripping coffee addict.

"No," he drew the word out, taking a moment to consider the situation. "I think we're safe." Yeah, this guy probably needed to go back to whatever institution he'd escaped from.

"Good." Snatching the papers, he unfolded them to ensure everything was present. Apparently satisfied, he nodded happily to himself. "I know who you are, Nicholas." All traces of the shyness he'd displayed in Captain Comics were gone. Now, he stood confidently, his hazel gaze boring into Nosedive as if he saw someone else standing beneath the feathers and beak. "Did it hurt?"

"No," he half laughed. "My name's Nosedive, not Nicholas. Look, I'm going to head out now. You have fun with whatever it is you're doing." Just another crazy loon; he really didn't feel like getting sucked into whatever delusions this guy clearly enjoyed.

"It's a brilliant plan, really," he continued. "Hiding out in the open like that. There's no way they can take you back without causing a public outrage."

"Yeah..." Okay. This guy was so far off his rocker it was impossible to tell if he'd ever been sane. Leaving him to wander the streets probably wasn't the best idea. "Do you need any help getting somewhere? Need me to call someone for you?"

"Here," he held out one of the sheets of paper. "You can call your mother. She's worried sick about you, but hasn't given up hope. I told her I'd find you. Now we just have to figure out if this is permanent or if they can change you back."

"I'm sure my mom's worried about me; but, unless you have a phone that can make inter-dimensional calls, I don't think I can get through to her." Never mind the fact that he didn't even know if she was still alive or where she would be if she were. Thanks for bringing up those pleasant thoughts, crazy dude. He ignored the proffered paper.

"I know the whole alien thing is a cover, Nicholas. It's brilliant. Who came up with it? Tracy?"

"First off, my name's Nosedive. Second, we are aliens. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear a taco calling my name." Turning on his heel, he decided he'd had enough. He'd back off and keep an eye on this schizo from a distance. One call to Klegghorn would be all it'd take to get someone over here to pick him up. This guy clearly needed help and Nosedive wasn't going to risk the possibility of him being violent.

A firm grip on his arm made him stop. Almost reacting on instinct, he spun around, fist raised. Stopping at the last second, he didn't punch the guy. Those self-defense lessons with Mallory were certainly coming into play, even if he didn't pay much attention to them.

"Please," the frazzled man begged. "Just call your mother." He held the paper up to Nosedive's face, forcing him to look at it.

A photograph of a smiling twelve year old boy hugging a black lab took up the top half of the page. Shaggy, blond hair fell to just below his ears. _Missing! Nicholas Farrell_ was printed in large, bold letters just below the happy photo.

_Nicholas was last seen walking home from school on the afternoon of May 7th, 1992, wearing a blue t-shirt, khaki shorts, and white sneakers. Age missing- 12 Age now- 18 Height- 4' 8" Weight- 84 lbs If you have any information on this missing child, please call 1-800-125-8543_

As far as human kids went, that one might have passed for a version of a younger Nosedive. Then again, California wasn't exactly short on skinny, blue eyed, blond kids. The only thing they were all missing was feathers and a beak.

"Look, that's not me." Nosedive spoke slowly, carefully enunciating every word in an effort to get through the static surrounding this man's brain. "I'm a duck, that's a human. I'm from Puckworld, not Earth. And now, I'm going to go call the nice police officer to help you get to wherever you belong."

"Get down!" Grabbing Nosedive's arm once more, he pulled them further back into the alley and pressed them up against a wall.

Two teenage girls laughing about something walked passed. One glanced into the alley with a frown and nudged her friend as they walked by.

"Shit," the human spat. "They spotted us. Come on! We've got to get out of here!"

No way was he being pulled into whatever crazy world this guy inhabited. His life was strange enough without having to run from random girls, which he actually did have to do on occasion at publicity events, and he'd had more than enough.

"Bye," Nosedive pulled away and waved to the frazzled conspiracy theorist as he ran through the other side of the alley and towards a bus stop. "Weird knowin' ya."

Thankful to finally be free of that psycho, he contacted Klegghorn and gave him a description of the guy and everything that had just happened. With that, he walked away from the situation and put it down to humans not being able to accept that aliens existed.


End file.
